Walk Out That Door
by Another Writer Who Loves
Summary: There was no proud father slinging his arm around Sam's shoulder. There was no beaming mother pressing a kiss to his cheek. No mischievous older brother to punch his arm. Short drabble about the first day at Stanford.


There was no proud father slinging his arm around Sam's shoulder. There was no beaming mother pressing a kiss to his cheek. No mischievous older brother to punch his arm.

Sam tightened his grip around the strap of his duffle bag and tried to keep staring straight ahead, ignoring everyone else around him as best as he could. The auditorium was packed to almost capacity leaving other families scrambling to find available seats for all of them.

It wasn't hard to find a seat for only one however.

Swallowing hard he tried to pay attention to the proctor on the stage, orientation day was supposed to be informative and reassuring and a day of pride for each student.

His hands were curled around the strap so hard his knuckles were almost white.

He didn't hear what any of the presenters were saying, all he could do was stare straight ahead, and try not to notice the multitude of happy and proud and beaming families around him as best as he could.

Finally it was over and he was able to leave, able to go to the office he was told to at the end of the presentation to sign the papers and get the key for his dorm room.

Even when he was outside he couldn't stop, could barely breathe. Outside they really were everywhere. Students, current and future, were surrounded. Being hugged, their hairs being ruffled, pictures being taken.

He hoisted his duffel bag up higher and continued onwards, trying to focus on the directions he was given towards the dorms than the students, he tried to focus on the small things that he could control.

Finally he reached the building, taking a moment to memorize how it looked outside and his eyes automatically went to the fire escape on the side before he tore his gaze away from it and walked inside.

Opting to take the stairs instead of the elevator Sam counted each steps until he reached his door and glanced down at the key in his hand before opening it.

The apartment was small with a room to the left that had two beds, for him and his roommate whoever that might be. As the apartment was still empty Sam claimed the bed on the left, it was closer to the door and window if he needed to make a quick-

He moved to the bed on the right, the one that obscured his vision instead.

Taking a deep breath Sam placed his duffel bag on the bed and opened it, slowly taking out the few things he had in it. A few changes of clothing, two books that he had always held onto, pictures that were pressed between the pages of the book where placed into the nightstand next to the bed along with a few various other things from his bag.

He slowly took out his pocket knife as well and stared at it before it was placed in the second drawer of the nightstand. He then covered it with the small bag that had been given to him at orientation that was filled with small knick knacks to welcome him to the school and made sure it was properly buried.

Going to the dresser he took his clothes with him and put them in the third drawer, leaving the first two for his roommate whenever they came. Even when he put all his clothes, including his socks and underwear, there was still more than enough room for more things.

Shaking his head he lastly grabbed his notebooks and set them on top of the nightstand to be grabbed first thing in the morning. Taking his now empty duffel bag he walked over to the closet and put it inside of it, on the ground with a pocket still closed and if he had any say in the matter would remain closed.

Taking a deep breath Sam looked around the empty room once more feeling a sharp pang in his chest that felt all too similar to that time a ghoul had raked his side with its claws.

Feeling something inside of him cracking Sam turned and went back into the closet, needing to bend over a bit to make sure he didn't hit his head on the upper shelf and closed the door behind him as the darkness of the closet surrounded him.

Slowly he slid down until he could wrap his arms around his legs and curled in on himself, burying his face in his knees and just holding onto himself. His entire frame shook with his sobs as he felt his worn jeans becoming wetter where the drops fell.

He felt like he couldn't breathe, that even if his life depended on it he couldn't get air in and couldn't make himself keep going.

It was pressing so hard against him and encompassing him entirely that he felt like there was a giant weight surrounding him. That maybe if he reached out and punched hard enough it could be thrown off of him.

Instead all he could do was sob into his knees, arms curled around himself, hands gripping at his hair, and try to ride it out. To let it all out and try to pick up the pieces when it was going to be done.

He couldn't stop sobbing, no matter how long he cried out, even when he had nothing else left to cry he couldn't get himself under control. Couldn't force himself to stop, not so long as the pain in his chest continued to fester like an infected blister.

Not when he could almost feel the unopened pocket of his duffel bag being pressed against him despite it being on the other side of the closet.

There was no proud father slinging his arm around Sam's shoulder. There was no beaming mother pressing a kiss to his cheek. No mischievous older brother to punch his arm.

" _If you walk out that door don't ever come back."_


End file.
